


Of Goblins and Kings

by StormsInMyCoffee



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Aged-Up Character(s), All Time Favorites, Alternate Universe - Magic, Babies, Dark Magic, Desire, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fae Magic, Falling In Love, Fate & Destiny, Hinted Jareth/Sarah Williams, Hot, Jareth (Labyrinth) Backstory, Kings & Queens, Labyrinth References, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, Magic, Magic Mirrors, Magical Realism, Original Character(s), Orphans, Possessive Jareth (Labyrinth), Romance, Sexy Jareth, Spice, Strong Female Characters, Time Loop, Tragic Romance, True Love, Unrequited Lust, Untold Story, War, Witch Labyrinths, bad boy, lip rub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2020-08-23 18:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20247001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormsInMyCoffee/pseuds/StormsInMyCoffee
Summary: Jareth watched the girl jump up. She was surrounded. The snakes crawled across her feet and legs. She turned her eyes to him and for a mad second he thought she might fling herself into his arms. Instead, she looked him in the eyes and surprised him with her words."You have no power over me." The King smiled and tilted his head. "Would you like to make a bet, Sarah?"





	1. Creation

  
Their forces were growing. The hordes swelled along his borders and overflowed into the trees. It was a ragtag army, dull-witted and slow, but it was the numbers that would matter in the end.

The King watched them without being seen, invisible to their dead eyes. His strategic gaze flitted over the ghouls, measuring their scale, cataloging their weapons. _Could there really be so many? _He thought to himself. _Thousands upon thousands!_

His nostrils flared as the stink of corpses became suffocating. He turned his head and focused more on the slack-jawed creature's artillery and less on the flesh peeling off their bones.

They appeared to have found a sensible method for categorizing their steal. Five stacks, high as houses, lined the makeshift base. In each lay one particular type of weapon. The King spied swords, axes, maces, flails, and forks. Farther away in a less extraordinary pile lay the mundane instruments of war, knives and such.

He had no idea they would be so well prepared. Silently, he acknowledged his own ambivalence. He had left her too long to her own devices. He knew of her power and yet underestimated her dedication to his destruction. He should have known better. The King shook his head and pushed down the worry that began to build in his chest.

Then he saw the witch. Or, to be more exact, he saw the springy red coils of her hair as she walked away. The King felt his skin prickle in revulsion and he reflexively wiped his mouth with the back of a long white hand. He could still taste her. He fought the urge to spit.

Knowing that with her present he was not likely to discover anything else, but rather ran the risk of being discovered, the King willed himself away from the battlefield.

Gone were the green hills and trees. Instead, he found himself inside facing his throne. The red war room was warm in contrast to the open air and the King moved closer to the blazing fire at its core. He adjusted to the instant travel with ease.

The room was silent, unnaturally so, as the occupants turned to face their king. He raised a hand and motioned for them to continue their discussions. Then the room erupted in a cacophony of voices, as each strived to be heard over the other.

The King kept his eyes on the flames in front of him. His thoughts were a riot. One idea quickly replaced another as he evolved a plan for the protection of his people. He knew it was insane. He knew it would have to be defended. As he gazed upon his advisors, he knew they would struggle to understand the extremes of the situation. But he also knew he was their king. His word was law and his magic was beyond what their minds could possibly comprehend.

The King strode to the massive ivory throne at the top of the stone stairs and stood before it. He raised his arms for silence and waited for all eyes to turn his way.

"Goblins, kinsmen, trusted council. I have troubling news from the Flailknock Plains. Circidella has gathered her army of ghouls and she prepares for battle."

A loud cry rang out amongst the gathered and the King waited patiently for it to simmer.

"Her numbers are great." He continued gravely. "Her weapons are greater. The witch is cunning, and she uses her magic to animate the dead for her cause."

The murmurs rippled again across the goblins and in the air was the tangy taste of panic. One of the many spoke in a trembling voice, "What will we do sire?"

The King smiled then. His beautifully terrifying eyes glinted and a shiver went through the crowd. The King was frightening when he smiled.

"We must increase our army." He answered as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

The goblins turned and whispered to each other again. Grimblin Fry, his most trusted advisor, and truest friend stepped forward-leaning heavily on a twisted oak branch.

"Jareth, we have already gathered our troops. There are no others."

The King's smile widened and he gave a small, breathy laugh. "Oh, there are others, my friend."

He sat down on his throne looking incredibly pleased with himself and Grimblin Fry shook his head in wonder. "But who, sire?"

At this he leaned forward on his throne and placed his elbows on his open knees, folding his fingers to his chin.

"Do you know how the witch acquired her army? They are not all raised from the graves of Alchenmians. No, she has reached her greedy little hands into the mortal realm. They are men!"

Shocked intakes of breath and curses rang into the rafters and the room seemed to heat up even more.

"No! She wouldn't!" Grimblin whispered, stricken and kissing the bones that hung from his neck.

The King laughed, "Oh, she would!"

The old goblin looked up at his friend and shook his head in defeat. "Then, all is lost."

The King sat back in his throne and crossed his leg, planting a foot on top of a knee.

"You give up too quickly, Grimblin. Is your old age killing your desire to fight?"

"Never, highness."

The gleam in the King's eyes grew until there was a fire within them and he gazed upon each goblin, in turn, forcing them to peer into his soul. Lastly, he turned to the one whose council mattered most. "Good. Know this, we shall not be defeated this day or any other."

The crowd nodded in agreement.

"What is greater than Dissolution magic?" he asked of them, speaking of the magic the witch so carelessly used.

The crowd just shook their heads, but the old goblin spoke up hesitantly, "Nascency magic. But you can't mean too…"

"But I do." The King interrupted, pushing a silvery hair back from his eyes. "Let the witch have her decaying hordes. Let her march them to their second graves. We will have strong warriors. New. Fierce. And born from the pure hearts of babes."

Grimblin Fry stepped closer to the throne, as near as he dared, and stared beseechingly into the unnerving gaze of his king. "We cannot steal children. We have made vows. If we recant, we are no better than the witch!"

"Of course not." The King answered then touched his chest through his flowing white shirt front. "Am I a monster?" He asked, giving a knowing scoff when his question was greeted with silence.

"We will take the abandoned, the discarded." He persisted. "Open your ears, can you not hear them cry out to you?"

The King was again met with empty stares, so he continued. "Well, I can, and I will answer their calls. Give them a new life. Make them one of us."

The goblins appeared to think over the plan. Smiles and nodding gestures started to spread throughout the steamy space and the King felt that perhaps he had been mistaken to doubt his subjects. Then Grimblin Fry asked a simple question that had no simple answer.

"Do we have time to do this?"

The King looked down at him with an unreadable expression, "We shall make time."

Standing again, the King moved to the balcony and threw open the doors. Cool air washed over the room and the fire began to wave, sending shadows dancing upon the walls. He turned to look at his subjects with a raised brow, then he flashed them all a wicked grin.

"You might want to cover your ears."

He spun around and stepped onto the balcony. Raising his arms out to his sides, he rose elegantly into the air. The wind began to intensify and swirl around him, whipping at his long, sterling blonde hair wildly.

His hands turned upward and he brought his fingers in on themselves.

Then the earth began to shake.

The goblins fell to their knees, palms to the ground. A giant rumble shook the room and vibrated against the walls. Grimblin Fry stood alone, clutching his branch for support. He never took his eyes from the levitating Goblin King.

He was moving his arms hypnotically, waving them as though conducting an orchestra. But instead of music, there was a symphony of crushing rock and crackling tree. The clay of the ground rose with the wind and mixed with the water of the seas. Roots shot from the black dirt and twisted into wire, grasping for the sky like newborn saplings.

The King reached higher in the air. The space around him filled with twisting winds heavy with rain and sand as he held them back.

With his magic on full display, he brought his hands close and rotated them around an invisible force in his palms. He pulled the moisture from the clouds and with a wiggle of a finger, brought the fire from the pit in the center of the room, watching as it cometed across the sky.

With each turn of his wrist, he brought the elements together and began to create. As the sky trembled, the earth began to take shape.

First, there was brick, then wall, and road. Then there were bubbling lakes and crumbling cliffs. With a flick of his thumb, he created doorways and divots. Long hedges crept across grassy hills and formed impossible twist and turns.

Grimblin Fry watched as Goblin City became the center of what looked to be an enormous maze.

It was magnificent in its design. Hopeless with its complexity. The walls stood ridiculously high and bled into each other in the most ludicrous manner. The old goblin became dizzy just staring at it. And the King was not finished. He expanded it and stretched it out for as far as the eye could see in every direction.

Then, with his work complete, the King lowered himself to the ground, placing his feet softy on the balcony below.

He strode back to his throne and rested upon the satin cushions.

Slowly, the goblins rose and rushed to the window, gasping as they looked out onto the new structure. They began to shout in excited voices and slap each other on the back.

Grimblin Fry turned to his king and shook his head, smiling. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

The King looked over at him, his eyes showing just the slightest hint of exhaustion. "Yes. I truly did."

The smile wavered a little on the goblins face as he questioned slowly, "And you think it will keep them out?"

The King gave a lop-sided smirk and answered quietly, "For now. We shall have to get to work soon."

"You mean find the babies." The old goblin prodded.

The King leaned back on his throne and threw a leg over the arm, as casual as could be, and smiled.

"Never fear, old friend, for my kingdom is great and my will is strong."

With that, Jareth the Goblin King looked out over the balcony, down across his land and grinned at his creation. Circidella would be fuming, her army in chaos. She would not be able to reach his castle with her dead soldiers now. Even with her impressive powers, she would never be able to maneuver through what he had designed. No one would. In fact, he thought with a laugh, he defied _anyone_ to try to defeat his labyrinth and live to tell the tale.


	2. Of the Babe

The stones under her feet were slick with sludge and the traction of her leather boots failed more than once. The slippery alley was not the ideal road to travel but it was the only passage between the busy street and the Colburn House.

She eyed the building up ahead. _Even the bricks looked tired_, she thought absently, noting how they crumbled and broke off in chunks around the foundation. The gray and beige structure seemed to lean forward in exhaustion and Sarah sidestepped large rocks that blocked her path.

Before she could raise a hand to knock, the door swung open and tiny arms slipped around her waist. The informal greeting was followed by cheers and sticky fingers pulling at her hands.

Sarah laughed softly as she returned the hugs and patted tiny, dirty heads.

"Alright children, alright. You'll make me drop my basket." Sarah pulled her heavy wicker basket closer to her chest as she moved into the small foyer. All was as she remembered from the week before. Not a speck of dust had been disturbed in the tiny room. Sarah frowned slightly as she attempted to move down the hallway. If anything the filthy hovel seemed even dirtier.

Turning her gaze back to the children, Sarah asked in a mild tone, "Where is your Mistress?"

Thomas, the eldest of the four children present spoke boldly. "She's gone to fetch another baby, Miss."

Sarah bit her lip and looked over their heads, not quite hiding her irritation. _The woman was relentless_.

"Well then, we shall just have to start without her. Who's first?"

Sarah stopped within the parlor and sat down on the faded floral sofa. The children began to jump up and down and speak at once. Sarah smiled and pointed to Anna. The smallish girl stepped forward with a large grin on her freckled face.

"And how are you today, love?"

The girl held up her finger and pushed it toward Sarah's face. Blinking, Sarah pulled it closer and twisted it in the light. A tiny wooden splinter was wedged between the nail and the bed.

"Oh, poor darling. We'll have that out in an instant."

"And then the basket?" The girl asked, hopefully. Her pale eyebrows lifted as her eyes grow. Sarah smiled softly at Anna's hopeful expression.

"Then the basket." Agreed Sarah, reaching for the satchel that hung down at her hip and removing her tiny medical tweezers. The girl was as still as a statue but whimpered slightly as the wood was removed.

Sarah kissed Anna's hand when the small procedure was completed and nodded to the basket. The little girl screeched and ran for her treat. Anna dug through the objects within and pulled out a plump and juicy orange.

"I wanted that!" A boy named Jonathan whined, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Me too!" Came the chorus of voices behind him.

Sarah shook her head and held out her hand for his. "There are plenty more. Time for your examination, Jonathan. Do you have any injuries?"

The boy shook his head but at the same time pointed to a red gash on his knee. The cut was swollen and slightly scabbed.

"Oh, Jonathan." Sarah sighed and removed two bottles from her bag. "Looks like we'll have to amputate."

The boy shot her a shocked expression. Sarah laughed and ruffled his hair. "I'm teasing, darling. Hold still, this won't hurt at all."

First, she washed the wound, then she sterilized it. Finally, she placed a bandage around his knee cap and tied it tightly. "There, have your treat. But please, if you scrap your knee again, you must keep it clean."

The boy barely heard her words. His face was deep within the basket.

The other two children had similarly mild pains that were easily treated by the contents of her small medical bag and she breathed a sigh of relief as she put away the last of her supplies. Looking up from her efforts, she watched as Ingrid, a girl of seven, attempted to place a necklace of tiny pink beads around her throat. The reward shined against the girl's pale skin.

Sarah walked over and turned the child to face the long mirror that hung over the soot-covered fireplace. She placed the string around Ingrid's delicate throat and rested her chin on the top of the girl's head, gazing at her in the mirror.

"You look lovely, Ingrid."

The girl beamed up at her with big hopeful eyes. "Do you think I'll be as pretty as you, Miss Sarah?"

Sarah laughed gently and turned the girl to face her. "You can do better than _that!"_

"Ha! There's a laugh!" Came a deep, nasally voice from the doorway. Sarah turned a carefully controlled look to the woman standing behind her.

Mistress Colburn was bouncing a tiny toddler on her hip and seemed completely oblivious as to the effect of her words. Ingrid's eyes had dimmed and she scooted closer to Sarah.

"Children, I'm afraid I must speak with your Mistress alone now," Sarah spoke authoritatively and the little ones, hastened by her tone, scampered off with only the slightest of moans. She waited until the last child had rounded the corner before turning to the woman in front of her.

"Mistress Colburn," she began, only to be interrupted as the woman shoved the sniffling baby into her arms.

"Take a look at this, since you're here. Been dripping since I picked 'im up!"

Sarah stared down at the child. He was indeed _dripping_. He sniffled and rubbed a tiny hand against his nostrils and up into his pink veined eyelids. Sarah pulled his arm down and bent to retrieve a soft cotton handkerchief from her bag. She began to pat the baby's face gently and removed the thick, crusty buildup on the side of his right eye. The child reached for her hand and closed his little digits around her fingers. Sarah felt a tug at her heart and she smiled down at the sweet babe. She turned her eyes to the woman again and found her lounging on the couch.

"Mistress Colburn, "she began again, "this baby has an infection. He must be kept away from the other children, given plenty of warm liquids, and he must be _kept clean_." The last words were said with slow deliberation.

The woman stared back at her and shook her head. "Trouble 'elready! Shoulda just said no to takin 'im. But I needed the money." She stared hard at Sarah and added. "Someone's gotta take care of these kids!"

Sarah looked away in distaste and, still holding the child, bent to pick up her belongings. "I am overdue at the Glenn's."

"Oh ya? Heard they sick there too. Mind you don't go picking up no nasty bug. Easy ta get sick, nowadays."

Sarah stopped her work and turned back to the woman, seizing the opening to talk once again about the children's hygiene. _If only she could find a way to reach the woman._

"Yes, you are so right, Mistress Colburn. You and I both know how important it is to battle sickness. If only others were as aware as we, about the importance of cleanliness."

The woman straightened and nodded, vainly smoothing out her skirt with a flick of her hand.

"I am truly shocked by the state of things at some of the houses I visit." Sarah continued. "To think, in this day and age, children go to bed without bathing or even washing their faces."

Mistress Colburn humphed and nodded, but turned her eyes away to the frayed fabric of the couch.

Sarah leaned in a little and spoke coldly in a firm whisper, "If you ask me, the state should take away their special licenses."

At this, the woman swung her head up swiftly and stared at Sarah. She let out a heavy breath and nodded slowly, moving to stand.

"Too true, Miss. Sarah. Too true." Then she reached for the baby and started heading to the door, silently demanding the girl to follow. Sarah took the hint and scooped up her belongings.

As she reached the hallway a throng of voices called out their goodbyes. She turned and waved at the children and stepped out the door, pausing to request a follow-up visit to check on the baby the next morning.

"Course, Miss." The woman responded and closed the door heavily.

Sarah sighed at the failure of her attempted intimidation. Then, faintly, she heard a voice through the door.

"Get you to the baths, dirt bunnies! I want to see those faces shine."

Sarah smiled brightly as she quickly descended down the steps. Her heart felt a little lighter at her tiny victory.

* * *

In a red room warmed by a waving fire and covered in comfortable darkness, The King smiled as well. He had been entertained by the little show behind the mirror_._

_Peculiar woman_, he thought to himself as he crossed a leg over the arm of his ivory throne, his thoughts briefly going back to her gloriously intelligent blue eyes. Jareth's smile widened wickedly and he ran a finger over the curve of his upper lip. He almost felt sorry for the other female. Shaking his head, he placed his chin in his hands and turned his attention back to the child, not allowing his mind to wander again.

The babe would do. He would do very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers! I am so glad you have returned for another chapter. So, now you have met our lovely Sarah. She definitely has her hands full. What are your thoughts about the changes to her character? Let me know and you might get a big juicy orange!-S.


	3. The Power

It had been a fitful night and the Goblin King rose from his bed feeling more tired than when he laid down. Jareth never needed more than two hours of sleep but even that had been hard to come by.

The child was invading his dreams. It called to him louder than any before. It followed him with a distracting persistence in the day, but during the wee dark hours of the night, it seemed to grow even more insistent.

Jareth moved to the mirror again, for what seemed to be the hundredth time, and watched the infant whimper in the girl's arms. It was ill. He frowned as he watched Sarah attempt to feed the agitated child. It simply swatted the milk away and rubbed its tiny face against her breast. Jareth frowned deeply. _It needed to eat to regain its strength for the journey._

For three days Sarah had cared for the baby. When she returned the day after her initial visit for a "follow-up", she discovered the boy's health had not improved. Jareth had looked on as she maneuvered the other female, the despicable one with little regard for hygiene, into allowing her to take the sick child.

He had to admit, he had been relieved to see her persistence in the matter. The child desired the intervention. The Goblin King heard it in its call.

Since then, the babe had been less desperate in tone, though it continued to demand the Goblin King's constant attention.

Sarah seemed weary as she moved to sit on a nearby chair, cradling the child close. The King's frown deepened as he noted her fatigue with mild interest. _She needs sleep as well._ There were dark circles under her brilliant eyes and her thick black hair hung loosely about her shoulders in forgotten ringlets.

Jareth allowed his thoughts to linger on her. She appeared to be a sort of healer, though her gifts were limited to the physical. She administered potions, thick and foul by the looks of them, and forced them on the child with a determination Jareth could not help but admire.

Sarah seemed to genuinely care for the child. The girl talked and read to it endlessly as she rocked its tiny body against her chest. The King smiled mischievously as he recalled her attempts at singing._ Not everyone has that gift_, he thought, shaking his head in amusement.

The Goblin King placed a hand on the side of his face and rubbed his upper lip with a long white finger. The child finally slept. It was peaceful for a moment. The girl sighed. Visibly relieved, she laid her head back on the chair. Jareth watched as her lashes drifted shut.

A noise behind him drew his eyes from the peaceful scene and Jareth turned to look upon his old friend.

"The child?" Grimblin Fry asked, without preamble.

Jareth nodded and turned back to the mirror.

"Still making all that fuss in your head?"

The King nodded again and pointed to his temple with a small smile.

The elderly goblin walked forward slowly and looked up to the ornately gilded mirror that hung beyond The King's bed. He squinted in the darkness to make out the shapes and shook his head at the sight of the two humans.

"Lot of work for one child."

Jareth turned and crossed his arms. "Not this child. This child is worth the work, old friend."

The goblin moved closer to the mirror and looked on more intently. "Is that so, Jareth? Looks like an ordinary mortal to me." He paused. "Now that other one…"

The King raised an arched brow and rocked back on his heels. "Yes?"

Grimblin Fry rubbed his chin and moved his head up and down slowly. "Can't quite place it, but she's got something…unique."

The King laughed deeply and placed a hand on the small goblin's shoulder, recalling the fierceness in her eyes as she claimed the child. _Yes, she is unique_, he thought coolly. "You have no idea. Let us hope we can avoid her when the time comes to take the babe."

Jareth waved a hand before the mirror and the images disappeared. Moving to a hook by the door, he grabbed up his long black cloak and swung it around his great width of shoulders. "Come, we have plans to oversee. How are the troops?"

The old goblin struggled to catch up with his king's long steps. "They are marvelous. Young, strong, pure of heart, just as you said. Each new recruit is an asset to our forces."

The King paused and stared down at Grimblin Fry. "But?"

"But, they must be trained. We need weapons, we need generals. It has been a year since the birth of the Labyrinth and I fear we are running out of time."

The Goblin King focused his piercing purple eyes on the goblin and Grimblin had to force himself not to fidget.

"And why is that?"

The goblin swallowed and lowered his gaze. "There have been defectors. Old allies."

"Who?" Thundered The King, causing the marble floor to tremble under Grimblin's feet.

The old goblin grasped his stick more firmly in his hand. Jareth could be vicious in his anger. Though he knew The King would never injure him, he feared what the ramifications would be to those who dared instigate his wrath. There was no use for it though. Jareth had ways to discover the truth on his own. By means the goblins could not possibly understand, he would find the answers he sought.

"Sire, it is High Lord Ludo. He is leading his clan away from you. I have heard tell that he plans on joining the witch." The goblin placed his weary head in his hand, covering his face with a shaky palm. He dared not look up at his King. He knew what he would find if he did.

Sparks of light shot out around him and Grimblin heard the rumbling of thunder in a distance. Then an unnatural wind blew from nowhere with the word "Ludo" folded in its gales. The old goblin peeked up to find his King was no longer alone but facing the long, stern face of the High Lord.

All mirth had left his sovereign's eyes. The King turned and waved an arm, instantly transporting them all to his throne room. He moved away from the two stunned creatures before him and sat elegantly on his ivory seat. Jareth leaned back casually and threw a booted leg over the arm.

He waited in silence, gazing down on the accused traitor. When the seconds seemed to stretch forever, and the tension in the room appeared ready to burst, The Goblin King spoke. His voice tilted in a deceptively mild drawl.

"How long?" He asked slowly. The air vibrated at his words and caused both listeners in front of him to start.

The High Lord didn't dare ignore The King's words, but he struggled to find his own.

"My, my king. Surely, you do not suggest…" His breath was stolen then and his eyes bulged slightly as an invisible pressure wrapped around his throat.

The King did not speak, only raised a brow.

The High Lord gasped and waved his arms wildly. "I have no wish to lie to you, My King."

Jareth's eyes tightened into purple slits and he spoke softly. "A wise choice."

"I, I have been communicating with the witch since those retched walls went up." The High Lord admitted, panting frantically. "I am not alone. There are others." He stopped and covered his mouth, shocked at his own loose tongue.

"Is that so?" The King asked innocently. The dangerous glint in his eyes burned brighter.

The traitor shook his head, never removing his hand. Beside him, the wise old goblin stepped away, allowing room between them for whatever was to come.

"Care to tell me of the others?" The King asked in a deadly whisper. "Or, perhaps, what you have been whispering to Circidella?"

The High Lord shook his head again and squeezed his eyes shut.

"No? What shall we do, then?"

The High Lord refused to speak.

"What shall we do, with a High Lord who behaves like a mindless brute and the boulder headed clan that follows him, hmm?"

A sinister smile spread across The Goblin King's beautiful face as he rose from his throne. He waved his arm again and Grimblin Fry was amazed to see the three of them standing before the entire Ladoith Clan. Hundreds of bewildered eyes stared back at their king in shock, filling the throne room with frightened murmurs.

The King ignored the newcomers and turned his steely violet eyes on the guilty malefactor before him.

"High Lord Ludo, you are accused of treason, against your land and your King. As punishment, I sentence you and your co-conspirators to the walls you love so _dearly_."

Ludo's eyes widened in fear as The King turned his back. Then, as though in an afterthought, he paused and said over his shoulder. "Say your goodbyes, for soon you begin your punishment."

Great cries broke out across the room. Grimblin Fry watched as the clan held on to each other and wept. He turned to Jareth and silently begged for mercy for the guilty. The Goblin King merely flashed his eyes, giving an infinitesimal shake of his head.

Then he lifted a hand and the High Lord began to rise.

Before the eyes of his clan, he folded over with a painful moan. Thick fur began to sprout out of his skin and horns ripped from his skull. His face widened to make room for massive jaws and his tongue rolled out through his teeth. His mouth made a sticky sound.

He landed back on the ground and grunted. Looking down at his paws, he made indistinguishable noises and turned frantic eyes to his clansmen. The King shook his head and raised a palm.

"No, Ludo, they will not be listening to any more of your poison."

The King motioned again and the clan all began to lift off the ground. Bent over, head to feet, they began to twist and turn. Their skin hardened and turned grey. The group let out loud and mournful wails before the throne. Their bodies crushed and compressed until they were no longer the shape of living things. They landed heavily to the ground and Ludo groaned as he looked upon the rocks that had once been his friends and family.

The King drew his palms together and bent his head over them. When he lifted his piercing gaze the rocks rose as well. The heavy Ladoith clan shot out over the open balcony with dizzying speed, barreling past the city walls and landing scattered throughout the Labyrinth.

"Guards," Jareth called, and two small armored goblins stepped forward. "Escort our old friend to his new home, and make sure he is comfortable." He said with a frown.

The giant brute followed behind the goblins with his head hung low, silently giving in to his punishment. Grimblin Fry waited until the group left before turning to his King.

"Cruel." Was his only word.

Jareth sat down, suddenly showing his weariness. He turned to his friend and smiled sadly. "Would you rather an execution? That is what the witch would have done when she was through with them. I saved those idiots lives."

The goblin paused and persisted. "But what kind of lives will they have now?"

The Goblin King growled softly under his breath. "The kind of lives traitors deserve. He was a friend Grimblin, and he betrayed me. I have nothing else to say on this matter." He waved the old goblin away.

Grimblin Fry moved to leave but stopped to say under his breath, "I fear he is only the first. We haven't much time." Then he walked slowly from the red room, leaning heavily on his branch.

The King sat for a moment in silence and rubbed his tired eyes. Then a sound reached his ears. The babe. He turned to the mirror and waved a hand to show the images.

The child was awake and laying on the shoulder of the girl. He watched as it gently tugged on her raven curls. It appeared to be silent, but Jareth knew the truth. It was calling to him with an untapped power that caused The King to smile despite his heartache.

Then his skin began to tingle. He peered deeper into the mirror and found two shockingly blue eyes staring back at him. Sarah couldn't see him. He was sure of it. But he felt her stare just the same, and it caused his flesh to warm. Sitting back, he waved the image away and sighed. He doubtlessly needed more sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! Well, Ludo sure paid the price for betraying The King. Do you think it was too harsh? Let me know, before the flying rocks get you!
> 
> I would like to thank you for your continued support and I really appreciate your reviews! They are such a great help. As always thank you all for reading, reviewing, leaving kudos, and following.-S.


	4. Cozy Isn't It

Toby's health was improving. His fever was completely gone and his sinuses had ceased their endless drainage. His happy gurgle filled the tiny room and Sarah smiled as she held him close, singing a pitchy version of an old nursery rhyme.

"Slime and snails,

Or puppy dog tails,

Thunder or lightning?"

She smiled down at him as Toby swung his arms and giggled.

"Then baby said..." Sarah paused before blowing on his tiny hand. Her laugh rang out gayly as he bounced in her grasp.

Sarah stood from her seat by his crib and carried him into her cozy kitchen. He would be hungry soon. At the thought of food, her stomach moaned. Sarah was famished, as she had skipped her last two meals. She moved to the toasty fire, placed a kettle on to heat, then set about arranging her meal on a tray.

Toby laid his downy head down on her shoulder and pulled at the tiny curls at the base of her neck with curious fingers. Sarah felt her heart swell. "All right now, little monster."

Sarah produced a small bowl of milk and porridge. She moved to a comfortable chair by the fire and sat Toby on her lap. He devoured each spoonful with gusto and she had to dodge his greedy hands as they attempted to clamp down on the metal spoon. "Well, at least your appetite has returned!"

"He _is_ a growing boy." A deeply masculine voice sounded by the kitchen door.

Sarah looked up sharply and pulled the child close to her chest, almost dropping the porridge that wobbled on her knee. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at the stranger. Her lungs momentarily stopped working. She moved the bowl to the side table and stood to address the tall man that stood audaciously in her kitchen doorway.

"Sir, I didn't hear you knock," She took a step forward, "and I'm positive _you_ did not hear me invite you inside."

The man looked surprised by her words but a small smile formed at the side of his mouth. He moved back to the entry and stepped out on the brick stairs. Then he raised an elegant white hand and knocked on the open door.

Sarah watched from the opposite side of the room with her head slightly tilted. The stranger was perplexingly beautiful, with a towering figure and a regal air. His features were stunning, from his divinely arched brows to his sharp cheekbones and squared jaw. His rich lips parted sensuously over stark white teeth. Sarah frowned, puzzled by his perfection.

The clothes he wore were fine and unlike any fashion Sarah had ever seen before. The fabric was odd, she noted. She almost wanted to touch its bizarrely foreign texture. Sarah felt a hot blush spread across her cheeks. She took a deep breath, tightened her lips into a determined pucker, and walked to the door.

Her expression seemed to amuse the man, for his purple eyes twinkled and he appeared to be fighting back a grin.

Taking the door into her hand, Sarah positioned herself in front of the gentleman.

"May I help you?" She asked, sternly.

"I do hope so, girl." The strange man drawled, not at all moved by her tone. "I'm here for the child."

His violet eyes bore into hers and suddenly Sarah's head began to spin. She broke eye contact and hazily focused on the long blonde hair that laid upon his broad shoulders. It was almost silver, though he seemed quite young, and it hung loosely in soft waves. Sarah blinked at him and for a moment considered allowing him to enter her home. Then, just as abruptly as it came upon her, the dizzying spell lifted and Sarah shook her head. She placed a hand to her forehead and vowed to eat soon.

"Interesting." The stranger said in a surprised voice and moved a little closer.

Sarah stepped back and began to close the door.

"Sarah." He called to her softly and placed a hand on the wooden frame. "You have done well with him, but it is time for the child to move on."

Sarah paused at his words "Move on?" she asked, confused before sudden understanding dawned on her. _The adoption officer. _"You are here for the child. I was going to contact you tomorrow morning, sir. Do, please, come inside, um…" She paused and waited for him to supply a name.

"You may call me Jareth, Sarah." He bowed his head slightly and a lovely strand of silver fell into his lavender eyes. The man strode into the little room and surveyed it with open curiosity.

Sarah wondered at the unusual name. She closed the door behind him and continued speaking in a hurried manner. "Well, yes, um as I was saying, I meant to contact you to discuss future arrangements for Toby." She glanced down at the babe in her arms. His innocent eyes seemed as interested in the mysterious Jareth as hers had been.

"Oh yes?" The striking man asked with the rise of his brow. He turned his head to the sudden whistle of the kettle.

"Excuse me," Sarah spoke quickly as she reached for a thick mitt and grabbed the hot kettle from the fire. Jareth watched her every move. Holding Toby away on her hip, Sarah began to pour the steaming water into her teapot and placed two delicate porcelain teacups onto the waiting tray. She was grateful she had already arranged a small plate of grapes, cheese, and crispy bread.

"I'm sure there will be documents to look over for the adoption." Sarah continued speaking, not stopping in her actions. "I have already spoken with Mistress Colburn and have convinced, er um," she paused and corrected, missing the man's hidden grin at her choice of words, "_obtained her approval_, for him to stay with me until the papers are signed and filed."

Jareth's gaze followed her movements intently, not missing a single stir or lift of her hand. When she moved to carry the tray, he stepped forward.

"Allow me." The man reached over and lightly indicated with a nod of his head for her to lead the way. Sarah smiled in thanks and walked to the humble parlor on the right. His curiosity was again peaked, it seemed to Sarah, and he glanced about the room as he placed the tray on a short table by the stiff cream-colored furnishings.

"Thank you, sir. Please, won't you sit down?" She motioned to a chair and walked to place Toby in his wooden bed by the window. The child protested at being separated from the two with a soft whimper that threatened to turn into a fit of tears.

Jareth strode confidently to the crib and simply stared down at the child with his strangely foreign eyes until Toby went silent. Then, to Sarah's utter amazement, the baby laid down and promptly went to sleep.

"My, you certainly have a way with children." Sarah acknowledged slowly. She smiled as she waved her hand back to the tea. "I'm sure that comes in handy in your line of work."

The man laughed lightly and nodded, "You have no idea."

They both sat down and Sarah began to pour him a hot cup. "Sir." She said as she handed it to him and reached for her own.

"Do you live alone, Sarah?" Jareth asked offhandedly.

Sarah was surprised by the forthright question but kept her composure. "Of course. Your offices have not informed you of my particular situation?"

The man took a sip of his tea and leaned back in his hard chair, placing a foot on his knee. "I will hear it from you."

Warmth spread across Sarah's cheeks at his words but she lifted her chin and nodded. "As you wish. I do, in fact, live alone. With my mother deceased and my father remarried, I find that independence is the best option for me."

"An option few women have." Jareth prompted mildly. His tone did not indicate judgment so Sarah answered plainly.

"Yes. My situation is unique. My uncle permitted me to live with him during the last years of his life. He was a physician, a truly brilliant and kind man. He allowed me to apprentice with him in his work." Sarah paused and lightly motioned to the food on the tray. Her guest simply raised a hand and shook his head. She ignored the food as well, though not without some regret, and continued.

"Through him, I learned of medicine and healing. He tended to the poor, you see. Children were his particular specialty. When he passed…" Sarah paused swallowing the emotion that rose up in her throat.

She placed her drink on the tray again, not looking at her guest. When she lifted her head, her eyes were clear and her expression under control once again.

"When my uncle passed his patients turned to me. I am not a doctor, of course, but I can help with minor injuries and illnesses. I study constantly to learn new techniques and remedies. But surely you know all this. I have been collaborating with your offices for over a year now." Sarah stopped speaking, unsure of why she was going into such detail.

"And do your patients pay for these services?" The man asked, ignoring her words and boldly looking again at the room in which they sat. It was small, with stacks of books lining the shelves and walls. The space was clean but it was also cramped and unfashionable. Sarah felt herself bristle at his appraisal.

"I do not require much. My uncle left me this house and a small sum. I do not believe in servants."

The man turned and stared at her, his face lighting up beautifully as he laughed. "You do not believe in servants?"

Sarah frowned at his mocking tone and shook her head, refusing to feel foolish. "Well, I know they exist but I would not wish to employ one." She answered, her words mildly sarcastic. "I am but one person, and quite capable of taking care of myself," She paused and then added, "and the baby."

The man named Jareth turned his eyes on her. The smile faded from his lips. Sarah felt the weight of his stare on her entire body. When he spoke it was in a firm tone that caused the air to leave her lungs.

"Forget about the baby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! Well, here they are, meeting at last. What are your thoughts on this pair? Any sparks? Maybe those are still to come. Let me know in a review and you never know what silver king might show up at your door.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, kudos, and following. Good luck in your own endeavors! – S.


	5. Life  Can Be Easy

It was interesting, reading the girl.

When he appeared in the small house, the Goblin King had been prepared to simply take the child and disappear, as he had with multiple others. His thoughts were on the boy. He had a power that would attract magic seekers like a beacon, and Jareth traveled across the realms to claim it before someone else did.

But then he met the girl and his curiosity was peaked. She was irked to see him in her home. Her perplexing blue eyes grew as large as saucers, and her temper flared. It was amusing.

The tiny woman seemed prepared to send him away. Jareth used his magic to charm her into letting him inside. Then, to his surprise, she rebuffed him with apparently no effort on her part. When he tried again, this time using her name as a conduit, his magic appeared to have no effect at all. It was all terribly interesting.

Then, to his astonishment, her eyes filled with recognition. She had mistaken him for another. Sarah imagined he was human. He allowed her to continue to think so.

Jareth was invited inside her home and watched her move about it with intrigue. The King had never truly witnessed the banal aspects of mortal life and he found them strangely fascinating.

The girl was efficient in her movements. Every motion seemed to have a purpose. As he watched her, he was struck by how easily she juggled the child and her actions. Sarah twisted her hips to keep the little person at a safe distance from the hot liquid in her hands.

When she moved to carry the tray as well, Jareth felt compelled to offer assistance. He followed her through the miniature dwellings and was surprised when it simply stopped with the next room. It was far smaller than it looked in the mirror.

He gazed on as she placed the babe in his crib, and heard it call out to his King.

Jareth stood and went to the child, speaking words that only they could hear. When at last he convinced him that they would be returning together, the babe laid his head back and slept. Sarah watched him with interest but The King easily turned her attention away from himself.

Instead, he focused on her. He had to admit, he was curious. It was not outside his knowledge that her situation was unique. It was unusual for an unmarried woman to live alone in the human realm. She was attractive, by mortal standards, and did not appear to be desolate or damaged. He wondered at her lack of a mate. She was unlike other humans, and there was more to her than what she shared. There was depth beneath the surface.

As Jareth listened to her words, he let his powers flow softly across the room. The invisible alchemy circled the girl, twirling around her body like a blanket of smoke.

The King wanted her secrets.

It wasn't as easy as it was with most. He felt a resistance within her, one that she didn't even dream was there.

At first, there was only a mist; pale purple and dense with ambiguity. Then the King could make out an image or so, in flashes. There was a book with an obscure title, a crown of roses, a tiny stuffed creature lying on a pillow. Then Jareth reached deeper and a scene played out before his eyes.

Sarah, no older than five in human years, and a tiny thing even then, stood alone in a white room. The wind from an open window bellowed out her long cotton gown. Her eyes were fixed on something. The Goblin King followed her stare to a closed curtain surrounding a bed. He watched as the child, clutching the stuffed creature from before, edged closer to the object of her attention.

"Mama." She mouthed, though the sound was lost to time.

She stepped even nearer and reached out a trembling hand to pull back the curtain. Beyond, just barely lit by the burning firelight, lay the remains of a deceased human. He frowned as he saw the girl run forward. She flung her little body at the bed and wept against her mother's dead form.

Suddenly, she was no longer alone. A male was there grasping her arms and pulling her away. The King watched as the man tore the stuffed creature from her hands and threw it into a fire by the wall before carrying the fighting child from the room.

Then the image was gone and replaced by another.

She was in an enclosure made of glass. Heat steamed the windows as the girl knelt on her knees before a thin plated tank. She appeared to be older than before by three or four years. Her expression was enraptured. He tilted his head slightly to gaze at what she was witnessing.

Snakes. Different colorful snakes. They surrounded her in the hothouse, caged in glass boxes, and slithering on top of one another. The girl was _speaking_ to them. The Goblin King grinned at her behavior. She moved to another box and spoke to it as well. Her words were lost, but her countenance was that of delighted discovery.

Again she was interrupted. This time it was by two boys who appeared to be her own age. The King watched with mild frustration as the boys pushed little Sarah and pulled at her hair. They taunted her together, bullying the child to the point where most would have dissolved into tears. But Sarah stood straight as an arrow and crossed her arms, ignoring the boys in front of her.

This only proved to anger the young men more and they gazed at each other with wicked intent in their eyes.

Turning away from the girl, they peered around the room and smiled. With stumbling speed they knocked over two of the glass cages and dashed for the door. Sarah ran forward, sidestepping the broken glass, but it was too late. They had barred the way and locked her within with the free and venomous reptiles. Sarah banged on the door but to no avail. She spun around and stared in horror as the snakes slithered closer. Then she opened her mouth and screamed.

The purple haze returned and surrounded the King. The images were lost. He was surprised that he had been knocked back so soon. Her mind was stronger than most, it seemed. Jareth adjusted quickly to the change and focused in on the girl.

Not a moment had passed during his explorations and he picked up the conversation with ease. The King found that he enjoyed the sound of her voice. It was firm but feminine. As she spoke she shared some of her life with him and how she came to be a healer. This was not exactly news to him, as he had watched her work for many nights, but there _was_ something that struck him.

"And do your patients pay for these services?" He asked, looking again at the humble home. In his world, healers were treated with respect. His dearest friend, Grimblin Fry, was one himself. Though he chose a humble life, he was not without esteem. To see her living in such a hovel was surprising to The King.

"I do not require much. My uncle left me this house and a small sum." She paused and unconsciously lifted her chin, "I do not believe in servants."

The King laughed outright at this. She said the words as if she expected to have to defend herself. "You do not believe in servants?" He ribbed, curious if she would rise to the occasion.

She did not disappoint. Sarah went on to say that she could take care of herself, before belatedly adding in the child.

At the mention of the babe Jareth's mind instantly sobered. He had let himself forget his real purpose for the trip through the glass. The babe with the power. It was imperative that he acquire him instantly. Circidella might already be on her way to claim him.

The game was at its end.

He turned to the girl and looked her full in the eyes. It was the gaze that had sunk goblins to their knees. Then he spoke in the ancient voice that had trembled mountains to the dirt.

"Forget about the baby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! What are your thoughts on The King's POV? Let me know and I promise to save you from scary, scary snakes!


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